


The Lightning Chair

by RogueWolf



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes & Tony Stark Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Steve Rogers approves, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:15:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueWolf/pseuds/RogueWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky's starting to remember who he was, who he could be again, but remembering comes at a cost. Sometimes, remembering hurts. Sometimes, you lose track of who you should be. And sometimes, it's the littlest things that help you remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lightning Chair

Bucky used to love thunderstorms. He’d grab a blanket and curl up in the nearest window, pulling knees up far enough that he could just rest his chin on them and listen to the thunder. He could sit there for hours, just listening to the sound of nature roar around him. It relaxed him, helped him not think. Steve would always tease him whenever he saw him curled up in his blanket.

“You look like a cat, Bucky,” he’d say between bouts of laughter But Bucky didn’t care, couldn’t care, not while the storm raged around him.

* * *

 It was different when the Army sent him overseas. There a thunderstorm meant wet boots and soggy food. It meant marching in the mud and trying not to fall flat on your back. It meant no warm blanket, and no Steve.

Until Steve was suddenly there, but he was also not Steve; he was Captain America. And Captain America was too busy being sent on missions to always check on Bucky when a storm rolled around.

“But that’s life,” Bucky would remind himself. “Steve finally has a chance to help others, it’s not right for me to hold him back.”

And that’s what Bucky kept telling himself until one day he was falling and he realized that if only he had held onto Steve tighter this would never have happened.

And he’s waiting to die and there’s nothing but echoes of thunder in that canyon until that’s all Bucky can hear, until he passes out and it’s finally quiet.

Or it was, until he wakes up to the thundering roar of a saw cutting away what’s left of his arm and he can’t feel his hand and there’s someone leaning over him and their voice is like thunder and Bucky passes out again.

And when they bring him back it’s always with the crackle of ice in his ears, the roar of thunder in his mind, and the sizzle of white fire in his veins, whenever they strap him into that lightning chair, until there’s nothing left in his mind but the need to obey, because if he obeys his mind goes quiet, as if he’s in the eye of the storm. 

Bucky becomes very good at following orders.

* * *

But then one day he sees a familiar face and he fails his mission and the storm in his head rages on and off, on and off, until he’s so confused he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. 

They try giving him orders, but the quiet won’t come, can’t come, not until he’s jumping from the burning helicarrier – falling again – but this time there’s no thunder. It’s quiet, deathly so, and he has no orders, he’s running on instinct, and it’s quiet. 

And when he rescues the man who he only semi-remembers, it’s still quiet. And he walks away, knowing that he shouldn’t, he should stay, but what if the thunder comes back?

So he leaves and begins learning how to keep this quiet. And he’s doing so well that he remembers who the man is – Steve, but not scrawny Steve – when the sky goes dark and a storm breaks out and he’s lost. And when the sky clears and all that’s left is drizzle he realizes that he’s covered in blood, but none of it is his, and he throws up until he feels like he can’t breathe.

The next day the papers report a trail of vicious murders across the city. While all the victims were criminals, but there’s no rhyme or reason behind their murders. The police are worried that there’s a new psychopath loose in the city, but Bucky knows better. The psychopath isn’t new, he’s just been hiding.

So Bucky starts giving himself orders, and he finds security in the way it grounds him, makes him feel In control for once. And when the next storm comes around he orders himself to count to a thousand, and he clutches his worn hoodie closer and whispers his numbers in Russian, the language an old friend.                                                                                                                                                         

And he’s safe until the next storm comes and he loses control again. He starts counting longer, and when the next storm hits he’s counting up to three thousand. And he keeps counting  during the next storm,  and the next, and the next, until he’s lost count, but it doesn’t matter, because his mind’s quiet and he  feels almost human again. He begins to believe that he could be Bucky Barnes.

* * *

And then one day he spots Steve; he’s hiding behind  a baseball cap and sunglasses, but Bucky knows it’s him, knows it the way he knows the water is wet and the Dodgers are the only team worth rooting for, or they were, until they moved. 

Bucky follows Steve until he comes to a tower and Bucky sneaks in, not caring that he trespassing. The second he tries to sneak in through the back stairwell an alarm goes off and he can’t open the exit doors. They even hold up to his arm. Bucky is beginning to panic when a voice starts speaking.

 “Sergeant Barnes, I’ve notified Captain Rogers of your presence. He will be here shortly.”

Bucky can only stare wide-eyed at the wall around him because there’s nobody there and the quiet is starting to evaporate and he can’t remember how to count and what if the thunder comes back and –

And then Steve is there and Bucky feels the thunder start to rise to a crescendo when Steve steps forward.

“Heya, Buck,” he says softly, and Bucky stares harder and starts to shake, because the thunder feels frozen, like it might come back any second and he doesn’t know what to _do_.

“Come on, Bucky, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Steve smiles crookedly. “I’ve been told by several people that I look pretty good for someone pushing almost a hundred.”

And just like that, the thunder’s gone.

Bucky can feel his eyes tearing up. “You always did like to  brag about your looks,” he whispers back.

Steve’s smile widens. “Yeah, well, one of us had to impress the dames.”

And then suddenly Bucky can’t hold back and he’s hugging Steve and he’s scared he’s going to hurt him, except Steve is hugging him back just as hard. They both ignore the wetness on their faces and the choked little sniffles they’re making, but that’s nothing new. The familiarity of it calms Bucky until he feels like he could collapse in Steve’s arms.

They end up curled in a bed, though Bucky can’t remember how they got there, but he knows it’s safe. So he doesn’t feel embarrassed about how he clings to Steve like the cat Steve accused him of being. And Steve just pulls him closer and rests his chin on this head. Bucky can hear him humming and it’s not quiet, but for once Bucky’s ok, because there’s no thunder, just Steve.

* * *

The next morning Bucky gets to meet the other Avengers, Steve’s friends, and they’re nice. They don’t creep around him, the way he expected them to. They treat him like he’s one of theirs, and Bucky starts to think he’ll fit in.

And it goes well for weeks, Bucky’s been able to keep the thunder away with Steve’s help, but then Steve’s sent on a mission. Bucky promises his that he’ll be ok, and he thinks it’s true. But a few days later one of the worst storms New York has seen in years hits, and Bucky finds himself hiding in one of Stark’s workshops; it’s one of the only rooms in the entire tower without those stupid, enormous windows Stark is so fond of.

He’s tripping over his numbers when Stark walks in, already talking out loud.

“When Jarvis told me there was an assassin hiding in here, I thought it was Barton, trying – and failing – to scare me.” He points at Bucky, “But you don’t look like our little hawk.”

Stark grabs one of the wrenches off the work table, flips it absentmindedly, then frowns at it before wiping it off on his shirt. “So what are you doing down here, Red Scare? There’s nothing interesting in here.”

Bucky ignores him and pulls his knees up tighter under his chin, still counting softly.

“Oohh…” Stark mutters, “that’s what it is.”

Bucky can hear Stark moving around, but he’s up in the hundreds and doesn’t want to lose his place, when Stark suddenly plops down next to him.

“Ugh…how you can stand sitting on these floors? J, remind me to install carpets in my workshops.”

“Noted, sir. Though I’m afraid your tendency to set your surroundings on fire would make it unwise.”

Stark waved his hands flippantly. “We’ll just have to make fire-proof carpet. Here,” he turns to Bucky without a break. “I need help organizing these, and I think you’ll be great at this.”

Bucky blinks at the tub of washers and bolts and screws that Stark pulls up.

“You can throw the washers over there and the bolts can go inside…these cups.” Stark reached up and grabbed a handful of coffee mugs sitting on the worktable; Bucky eyed them suspiciously.

“Hey. I saw that. Don’t think I didn’t. You saw that too, right, Jarvis?”

“I’m not certain I know what you’re referring to, sir.”

“Traitor,” Steve muttered. “Anyways,” he said in a louder voice, “The cups are clean, I just like having extras. So you gonna help or what?”

Bucky blinked again and then slowly uncurled himself.

“Great. I got help. I like help, so long as you don’t dump fire extinguisher on me. So washers there, bolts here, and screws stay in the tub, got it?”

Bucky nodded and started separating the pieces, losing himself in the feel of metal beneath his fingers as he counted each piece

* * *

And that’s how Steve found them hours later, when he hurried in, soaked to the bone. Tony waved at him from where he was making coffee but didn’t say anything, just jerked his head to where Bucky was rummaging through the second tub,

“Wouldn’t have expected to see you down here,” Steve finally said.

Bucky shrugged a shoulder. “It’s quiet, except Stark likes to talk a lot.”

Steve chuckled, “Yeah, he does. But I think it’s how he processes everything.” He gave Bucky a look. “And you’re ok with it?”

Bucky nodded. “I think….” He fiddled with some washers. “I think it helps me think too.” He looked up at Steve and gave him a small smile. “I like that.”

Steve smiled back. “Me too.”

“Captain, if you only came down here to steal my minion I’m going to have to kick you out.” Tony came over and handed Bucky a mug of coffee, before practically inhaling his own.

Steve snorted. “I’d like to see you try. It’d be like a repeat of you “lifting” Thor’s hammer.”

Tony spluttered his coffee in disbelief while Bucky snickered into his mug. Before Tony could say anything, Steve stood up. “I can see I’m not needed, so I’ll head out and leave you and your minion alone.” He winked at Bucky and headed for the door. 

“That was a low blow, Rogers,” Tony called behind him. “Don’t listen to him, Barnes. He’s just jealous that I almost moved the hammer. I was just pretending not to. I needed to spare Thor’s feelings and all. Cap though…”

Steve looked back before leaving, and smiled. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a fic in years, so I hope you like it! Shootout to withasideofangst for beta'ing.


End file.
